


we kiss in cars and downtown bars

by ticklesdead



Category: The Thick of It (TV)
Genre: F/F, Short & Sweet, i just have a lot of thoughts about these two despite them never meeting, literally so dumb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-16 02:06:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29568645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ticklesdead/pseuds/ticklesdead
Summary: two underdeveloped characters who were never confirmed to be entirely heterosexual walk into a bar...rated t for language but you’ve seen the show come on it’s finethis is an excerpt from a much much bigger ttoi fic that i’m working on, but I like the idea of emma and helen a lot bc they r both such underrated characters and also there’s no way either of them is straight lesbihonest xxtitle song is cardigan by taylor swift :,)
Relationships: Helen Hatley/Emma Messinger
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	we kiss in cars and downtown bars

**Author's Note:**

> dedicated to ruby my partner in playlisting crime (also if you want a playlist vaguely themed around secret wlw relationships then here https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4CpoYZu3uxktiWUvDlmU6k?si=T2a4bJXxRZK6jSkgQMHKgQ )

_**Christmas 2014, a nondescript hotel bar in London, Westminster Cross-Party Christmas Drinks, around 10pm.** _

Emma found herself alone at the hotel bar, wondering whether she could get away with leaving now for an early night. She scanned the room for signs of Phil or Peter, but neither were anywhere to be seen. Peter had almost certainly done the required rounds then fucked off home to sort through the divorce proceedings, and it was unlikely that Phil would still be milling about, seeing as his ability to talk to women was nonexistent and he had no desire to advance his career anywhere that didn’t maintain his commensalistic relationship with Peter. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Emma was aware that she really ought to be putting out some feelers, in case the entirely plausible scenario in which Peter didn’t get back in actually happened. It wasn’t like she wasn’t skilled enough to get a higher-flying role in JB’s government, but it would take some serious blagging to make future employers forget about her association with DoSAC and its ancient Minister. She really ought to start here, while enough rat’s piss has been downed by the relevant parties to loosen their proverbial purse strings a little, but in truth she just  _ couldn’t be arsed.  _ It was bad enough having to sidle up to people and introduce yourself, hint at a job opening and suggest you were easy and desperate enough to do pretty much anything to get it, but the idea of being rejected in front of all these people made Emma nauseous. She’d do her grovelling in private, thank you very much. 

“This seat taken?”

“Go ahead - oh. It’s you.” Emma glanced to her side and felt her heart sink. Curly-haired, tired-eyed Angela Heaney was perched on the stool to her right, and Emma really didn’t have the energy to deal with her tonight. 

“Is this where we do small talk and avoid the fact that we slept together one time three years ago and then never spoke again?” she sighed, “Because honestly I really can’t be fucked with that tonight, Angela.” 

“Four years, actually.” 

Emma could tell when Angela wanted something - that was how she had ended up in the ladies’ toilets with her at the 2010 Westminster Christmas drinks in the first place.

“Four years, whatever. Listen, I’m flattered, but I don’t make a habit of sleeping with my exes’ exes and I certainly don’t do it twice, not when I’m this fucking tired.” She was aware of how up herself that sounded, but so far gone from caring what Angela Heaney thought of her. 

“I don’t want to sleep with you, Emma, if you can possibly believe that. I came over for a drink, and to tell you that there’s a woman from the Opposition who’s been staring at you all night, and who as far as I’m aware has never shagged Ollie.” 

Emma followed Angela’s gaze, landing on a woman with dark hair and possibly the biggest eyes she had ever seen. She was, she had to admit, very much Emma’s type. 

“Not bad,” Emma nodded approvingly, “But Opposition? Don’t you think I’ve had enough of that particular clusterfuck already?” 

“She’s not got plans to be the next Tucker, if that’s what you’re worried about. From what I’ve heard she’s high up in JLM, press or something.” Taking a sip of her drink, Angela regarded Emma with that insufferable all-knowing look.  _ Fucking journalists. _ “Anyway, I don’t think she’s exactly the relationship type - suits you.” 

Had she been less affected by the rat’s piss in her system, Emma might not have taken Angela’s comment lying down. But her eyes were drawn back to Opposition Woman - she was  _ sure  _ she knew her from somewhere - and the way she was twirling a strand of her  _ really quite lovely  _ hair through slender fingers, an unwitting provocation.  _ For fuck’s sake.  _ She couldn’t, surely. Ollie had been an absolute disaster, and back then she had more licence to put her career on the line by sleeping with the enemy.  _ But then again _ , she thought, draining her glass,  _ if it was just ‘sleeping with’ the enemy, would that really be so bad?  _ And at least she was actually attracted to this woman, which was a significant step up from last time. 

Emma took a deep breath and attempted not entirely successfully to navigate her way off her barstool. She smoothed down her dress and attempted to calm her thumping heartbeat, ignoring Angela’s smirk and praying this wouldn’t be the embarrassing and swift end of her career. Opposition Woman was leant against the wall, dangling her glass between her fingers, and watching Emma as she approached, her expression unreadable.  _ God, this is like being back at school,  _ Emma thought,  _ although I suppose this time I’m less likely to be cast out of Equestrian Club for chatting up a girl.  _ Each slightly stumbly step she took closer to Opposition Woman was just a confirmation that she couldn’t back out now, which didn’t exactly help Emma’s heart to get back below 100bpm. All too soon, she found herself mere feet in front of the woman, with absolutely no clue on how to proceed. She briefly considered some kind of governmental small talk, abandoning that idea very fucking quickly when she considered the possible implications of discussing the blatant political reasons they should stay far away from each other.  _ Fuck it.  _ She stuck a hand out, putting on her best private-school manners.

“Emma.”

“Helen.”

_Helen._ Of course it was. Long-suffering Helen Hatley who had put up with Nicola Murray’s non-entity of a leadership - along with Ollie. _For fuck’s sake._ _Was there literally nobody in Westminster who hadn’t been in some way involved with Ollie Fucking Reeder?_ It was as though Emma was panicking out loud, and considering her level of sobriety she might well have been, because Helen’s lips - _why the fuck are you focusing on her lips -_ were curled into a smirk. She watched as Helen dragged her eyes down, up, down again, taking her time in drinking her in. What the hell was she meant to say now? Whatever she said would sound shit, too posh and too awkward, and she didn’t even know what she was trying to achieve. It wasn’t like Helen, all cool and collected, was about to whisk her off to some back alley for a quick fumble just because she’d looked her up and down once. 

“This is a bit shit, isn’t it?” Helen nodded to the dwindling crowd of middle-aged, slightly drunk men behind them. “Feels a bit like being 17 in Spoons on a Thursday night. Although - have you ever actually been to a Spoons? I imagine it was a bit downmarket for private school girls.”

“Fuck off.” Emma couldn’t help but smile. “But yes, it is a bit shit. I only came to make sure Peter doesn’t get into any racism scandals - at least not before I’ve found someone less insufferable to work for.”

“You’re not thinking of jumping ship, are you? We could use someone like you, although if you’re going to be slumming it with the Opposition I would actually have to take you to a Spoons first, get you more in-sync with the lifestyle of us commoners.” 

Emma almost choked on thin air. Was this her being asked out? She tried not to think about the fact that there were almost certainly people nearby who could quite happily end her career if they heard this conversation and smoothed down her dress again. But she was allowed to have a bit of fun, right? Even if it was with  _ one of that lot.  _ And there wasn’t really any way of denying it now - Helen  _ had  _ to be interested. That  _ infuriating  _ little amused smile never seemed to leave her face, and she hadn’t dropped Emma’s gaze once.  _ Fuck it.  _

“At risk of sounding like an absolute tit -” She tried to calm the definite wobble in her voice, giving up on her dangerously quick pulse. “- do you want to get out of here?”

Helen’s eyes widened for a split second - Emma was surprised it was actually possible for them to get any bigger - 

but she didn’t seem phased by Emma’s boldness. 

“Your place or mine?”

-

The next day, Emma would swear to anyone who asked that she’d left the party at a respectable 10:30pm, and gone home alone. She’d not let herself be kissed in the shadows of a taxi, or be pushed against her own front door by soft hands and wanting eyes - _certainly not_ . If anyone asked, she’d worked on a speech for Peter and got an early night. But that wasn’t the entire truth - or perhaps rather not the truth at all. Only she knew that, though - she and Helen, of course. They’d see each other that next morning, briefly, lock tired eyes across College Green for just a second. A little smile, nothing more. Their secret.

**Author's Note:**

> hope u enjoyed kids more to come x lmk ur thoughts in the comments


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